Maybe it was the Sunkist I drank before going to bed . . .

Laurence is having the best day of his life. His wife prepared his favorite breakfast, his kids brought him Father’s Day cards and he got a raise at work. As he brushes his teeth and prepares for bed, his toothbrush disappears, his hand disappears, and the sink disappears; bit by bit everything around him disappears until all he sees is a monster. 

Laurence: Aaaah! 

Bob: Sssshhh. Please quiet down. You don’t want to wake the others. 

Laurence looks out on a field of people just like him. 

Laurence: Where am I? 

Bob: Where you’ve always been. 

Laurence: Are you monsters? 

Bob: Monsters? Ha ha ha. Are we monsters, Charlie?

Charlie: I do believe we are, Bob. 

Bob: It’s fascinating how you ask the same questions every time.

Laurence: Every time? Wait! Where are my arms? My legs! What are you doing to me? 

Bob: What are we doing to you? Why, we’re eating you of course. We are monsters. 

Charlie: You taste delicious by the way. 

Bob: I’ll bet that’s not something you knew about yourself. Now what day would you like to live next? I’ll let you choose. 

Muckaluck the Duck

The duck in the bed is named Muckaluck. He rarely goes a day without being told he’s mucked things up. Perhaps this is why he prefers to sleep and dream. He does it quite a bit.

At last he is awake and he’s now in the kitchen with Momma.

Momma’s not too happy with Muckaluck’s sleeping in.

Muckaluck just wants his Momma to be happy. She sends him off to play with his friends.

Muckaluck finds his friends. They’re playing kickball in the field.

Muckaluck asks if he can play. He’s told he can as long as he doesn’t muck things up.

Muckaluck promises to try and is sent to the outfield.

“It’s so nice to have friends” thinks Muckaluck. “And flowers, you can’t beat flowers.”

Is that the ball that just rolled by?

Muckaluck drops his flowers and runs after the ball, right into the dark edge of the forest.

Muckaluck can’t run very fast. He has a difficult time because of his asthma.

Muckaluck decides to rest and sits on a tree stump.

The trees don’t like it when animals sit on them and begin to yell and shake. They scare little Muckaluck away.

Muckaluck is running again until he trips on a root and loses his glasses.

What will Muckaluck do now?

Muckaluck crawls forward. He knows he has to get the ball.

Muckaluck reaches for the ball and falls in a pond. Oh, Muckaluck.

Muckaluck never learned how to swim and begins to sink to the bottom.

This is another story that I would like to finish and illustrate this year :)

The Littlest Zombie

The littlest zombie woke up alone

He was out in the cold, he was not at home

No mother or father, no friends nearby

The littlest zombie felt sad, he began to cry

This is the first stanza to a poem/story that I would like to finish and illustrate this year. It's about a little zombie named Timmy who gets separated from his family. He meets a Scottish Terrier named Woofus and they take a cross country trek to get Timmy back home to his family in time for Christmas.